Love is an Unexpected Dream
by ErendisJ
Summary: Erin lived with relatives since her mother's death. But then, she began to dream of Mirkwood, and one very special, different elf. (Formerly "Elen síla lumenn' omentielvo".) All comments welcome.
1. Strange meetings

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is J.R.R. Tolkien's work. All I own is my plot and my original characters.  
  
A/N: This is a (slightly) improved version of my original story. Everything is exactly the same except for the fact I decided to omit what originally was the first chapter. I thought this was a better place to start the story. Please, R&R!  
  
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*Chapter 1*  
  
***Dream Diary***  
  
December 23.  
  
Prank, dream or reality? Yesterday morning, a guy who called himself Imrel came up to me and said I might go to Middle-Earth. He said he would come back to me if I was going to go, but then he said he'd come back anyway... It was all very confusing, really.  
  
I'm beginning to feel like he's someone I have to face, someone I can't hide from. I haven't been able to stop thinking about him. I even dreamt of him last night.  
  
***I was standing in a forest path. The foliage of the trees was so thick no light could possibly get through, and there were huge spiderwebs across some of the trees. I was wearing a long, flowing white silk gown and a grey cloak. In my left hand I held a silver lamp.  
  
I left the path and started to walk deep into the forest, until I came to a clearing near the river. There was an Elf standing on the rocks, fishing. If he hadn't been moving, I doubt I could've seen him, as his clothes blended in very well with the background. When I came near he turned around to see me. It was Imrel.  
  
He smiled. "It is good to see you again, milady, though this visit is rather unexpected." "And so it is for me. I... I don't know what to say, I didn't mean to come here, it just... happened." I was thankful for the darkness, my face felt hot, and in the daylight I would've doubtlessly shown a nice purple coloring.  
  
"Come with me." He took my lamp for me and led me down the river, holding my hand to keep me from stumbling. Soon we came to a bridge, and past that we reached the gates. The guards made as if to stop us, but Imrel held them back. "She comes with me. Let her come and go as she may wish, whether in company or alone." "Yes, sir" They bowed and returned to their posts.  
  
"Very impressive. Do you always get your way around here?" I tried not to laugh. "I have some pull with the boss, so I can usually get away with things that others don't. As long as I ask nothing they are strictly forbidden to do, it's all right," he said with a smile.  
  
The gates led to the mouth of a huge cave that ran into the side of a steep slope covered with trees. There, the great beeches came right down to the bank, till their feet were in the stream.  
  
Inside, everything was beautifully adorned, sort of Goth style. The colors used were mainly dark shades of green or brown as a background with lighter tones forming designs.  
  
In a great hall with pillars hewn out of the living stone sat a king on a throne of carven wood. Upon his head was a silver crown adorned with... snowflakes?... and in his hand he held a staff of a pale wood set with diamonds. It looked almost as if the wood had grown around them.  
  
"King Thranduil," I heard Imrel say, "I present to you my good friend Erin." I knew I should curtsy, but that sort of thing I've never done very gracefully so I bowed instead. "It is a great honor to be here". "The honor is ours, milady, in having such a distinguished guest. You shall most probably have to come and go from this place for a time, therefore, a room has been prepared for your use when you are here." replied Thranduil. "Imrel, please show her the way."  
  
Together we walked down a long corridor adorned with tapestries. One in particular caught my attention: it showed a winter storm raging upon a forest where it was obviously supposed to be spring. The forest was turning dark and musty. It was a very beautiful tapestry, as were all the others in this hall, but the idea that such a bright place could turn to darkness in such a drastic manner scared me. I had the feeling something like to that had once happened to Mirkwood.  
  
I had stopped to look at it, and Imrel must've read my feelings by the expression on my face, because he said, "It shows what Morgoth and Sauron did to our forest. Once it was one of the brightest and most beautiful upon Middle Earth, called Greenwood the Great, but it has been turned to what it is now. Hence comes the name by which it is best known to the outside world: Mirkwood. Nevertheless, we love our forest: though it may seem fearful to you, it has a dark, sweet beauty that is all it's own."  
  
Next to the tapestry was a door leading to my room. Imrel set the lamp, which he still carried for me, on a small table beside the doorway. "I hope you will be comfortable." "Yes, thank you." He turned to leave. "Imrel?" I called for him and he turned back. "Thank you for everything," I said finally. I couldn't think of anything else to say, I didn't even know why I called after him. He seemed to understand and smiled softly at me. "It's been a pleasure. Goodbye."***  
  
I woke with the memory of his smile. I haven't seen anyone smile at me like that in a long time. Maybe this is all I can ever hope for. The smile of someone who cares for me, but only in my dreams...  
  
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A/N: Well, there it is! Let me know what you think.  
  
Special thanks to Dolores J. Nurss for all her help in this chapter. :-) 


	2. Many questions

Disclaimer: Same old, same old. Anything familiar is Tolkien's work.  
  
A/N: Well, there you go! I've decided I won't update anything until I get more reviews, though. Just two reviews and Chapter 4 will be up- am I really asking for to much? Come on people, I need to know I'm not wasting my time here and that there really is someone who's actually reading this. Thanks for reading though, if you are. Ok, here goes:  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Erin woke once again to the all too familiar sound of her aunt's shouting. Groaning, she sat up in bed, wondering what the heck she had done (or not done?) this time. She got up and put on the clothes she had been wearing the day before: baggy jeans, a sweatshirt and a tee, all in black. Black had been her favorite color since her mother died.  
  
She felt exhausted. Last night she had revisited Mirkwood again. Each time it all seemed more real, more detailed. It was tiring, though, as if she hadn't slept at all. Nevertheless, she had come to enjoy Mirkwood so much she was quite keen for the dreams to continue.  
  
The elves had become her best friends. They were very different from anyone she had ever known, but then again, she had never met elves before. She had seen plenty of them by now, of course, and it didn't seem to matter what she used to think of them. They were quite different from what she had expected- so old and young, cheerful and sad as it was.  
  
Then again, Mirkwood elves were very different from other elves, Imrel had warned her. They were more dangerous and less wise- more rustic, so to speak- and proud of it. They had at first dwelt mostly by the edges of the forest, from which they could escape at times to hunt or to ride and run over the open lands by moonlight or starlight; but since the coming of Men they had taken ever more to the gloaming and the dusk.  
  
And finally, there was Imrel himself. He was different even from the other elves. His looks and the way he dressed made him stand out among them. He wore dark grey instead of the browns and greens of the other elves; his hair was a much lighter shade of brown than theirs, and his dark honey colored eyes were so unlike their grey ones. He had inherited these features from his mother, Amyl.  
  
Amyl was a human. She had run away when she was seventeen, and met an elf called Rahíl. To make a long story short, they eloped, and she died in childbirth. Rahíl then departed over the Sea, mourning his lost love, and left the child in the care of his best friend, the King Thranduil.  
  
It hadn't been easy for Imrel to live knowing the truth about his origin. Thranduil had decided that it was best to tell him the truth instead of 'making him live in a world of lies'. But sometimes, we need our lies more than we need the truth.  
  
True, he was very lucky, having grown up in the household of a king. Thranduil had always treated him as his one of his own, and he was grateful for it, but it still didn't make things a lot easier. Imrel had grown up in Mirkwood cared for, but not beloved, as was Legolas. But in spite of having to live in his shadow, Imrel did love Legolas as a brother, and they would often go riding and hunting together.  
  
Erin hadn't met Legolas yet. She was, of course, very curious about him, but the elves seemed very reluctant to mention his whereabouts at the moment. She suspected he was out there somewhere, doing his bit for Middle- Earth as a worthy member of the Fellowship of the Ring.  
  
She wasn't worried about Legolas, nor Middle-Earth. She knew she had no need to be so. But she was worried about Imrel. He hadn't come near her for days now, spent most of the time alone, and wouldn't speak to anyone. The other elves told her he wasn't acting strangely, that he was always that way, but as with the Legolas affair, she knew there was something else to all this, something they didn't want her to know.  
  
A/N: I know it's real short, but Chapter 4 will make up for it. Meanwhile, see that little button on the left? You know what it's for, and you know you REALLY want to use it, so GO AHEAD. 


	3. The worst fight

Disclaimer: I do not own LotR. I own just my books, my characters and the plot. (Sigh... that was hard!)  
  
A/N: ( Thank you for all your reviews! They really speed me up.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Erin ran upstairs, crying. She had had another fight with her aunt, but much worse than usual. Probably the worst they had ever had. No, not probably- definitely was more like it. She felt tired of this situation. Why did her life just have to be such a mess? She was so, so tired. She wished she could just fall asleep forever, in peace, without any thoughts or troubles to escape from...  
  
She slammed her door and locked it. She smiled bitterly. Up until now it had never been any good to lock doors behind her, yet she'd kept doing it. But this time, no one would be able to make her come out unless she wanted to, because she had every key to every door with her.  
  
Erin threw herself onto her bed and hugged the large teddy bear her mother had given her on her birthday. It was about thirty-two inches, brown, with eyes the color of dark honey- just like Imrel's. She buried her face into its softness, sobbing harder than ever. She hated herself for crying: she never had, not even at her mother's funeral.  
  
She cried for hours, or so it felt like to her. Finally, she fell into a sleep of exhaustion...  
  
***  
  
When Erin opened her eyes she saw she was in the same clearing next to the river where she had first found Imrel. Her clothing was simpler and darker now- she had always worn clothes in light brown with bits of green except for her first visit- and she wore a hooded cloak that hid her face. They certainly suited her mood. She noticed the forest was slightly brighter than usual- or rather, that the shadow upon it had lessened slightly.  
  
Out of habit, she walked to the Elvenking's palace. The guards no longer stopped her, though she knew they weren't fond of her, but knowing they couldn't get rid of her they simply chose to ignore her. As she walked through the palace's great halls, she noticed there was a great activity all about. However, no one noticed her, and she didn't care to ask anyone what was going on.  
  
She walked to her room. The tapestry next to the door still fascinated and scared her. It was made of the tough but light spider-silk the elves loved to use- the eerie, fluid, shimmery ripples in light breezes gave an illusion of life to the figures within.  
  
She sat at the vanity table and stared at her reflection. The cloak seemed suddenly very deceiving- though she could see everything perfectly, her face remained fully hidden. Gingerly, she took off the hood. She suddenly felt thankful no one was here to see her. She sighed deeply, and put it back on.  
  
Suddenly, someone rushed into the room. Startled, Erin whirled around to face the intruder. It was a messenger. He seemed very excited about something. Blushing, he apologized for entering without knocking. "I beg your pardon- I didn't expect you to be here yet. I came to leave this." He handed her a small piece of parchment. "Thank you." Even her voice sounded different. He looked at her strangely. "Is something wrong, milady?" Without knowing why, she shook her head. "I'm all right, thank you." Though obviously not fully convinced, he bowed and left.  
  
Slowly, almost mechanically, she opened the message. The writing was slanty and slightly messy; it had obviously been written in a hurry. *Erin, come to the Great Hall as soon as you arrive. Please hurry. Imrel.* 'Well', she thought, 'look at that. First he evades me and now he can't wait to see me. I can't believe this.'  
  
Well, might as well get over it. Assuming the sooner she got there, the sooner she'd leave, she got up and headed out the door. Once she was walking down to the Great Hall she began to consider whether she should go or not. Unfortunately, by the time she had made up her mind to go back, she had arrived.  
  
There was a great party going on. At the head of long lines of feasters eating and drinking and laughing merrily sat Thranduil (this time wearing a crown of woodland flowers upon his golden hair, for the spring had come again). The elves were passing bowls from hand to hand, and some were harping and many were singing. Their gleaming hair was twined with flowers; green and white gems glinted on their collars and their belts; and their faces and their songs were filled with mirth.  
  
Erin couldn't bear to be there: their talking and singing emphasized her silence; their happiness and merrymaking emphasized her sadness. She turned to leave, but not before Imrel had seen and somehow recognized her. Almost instantly, he was at her side. "I am glad you've arrived. Do not leave yet- first come with me, I want you to meet someone." He took her hand, meaning to take her to meet his friend.  
  
She pulled back. "No. Please, I don't want anyone to see me." "Why not?" Imrel asked cheerfully. He noted the change in her voice and her urgent tone, but gave no sign of it. "I, um, I am not properly dressed is all..." she began to stammer, trying to pretend nothing was wrong. "I didn't know what was going on, so I, um, I just came as I was, so I, I guess I should go back and change..." Her voice trailed off, and she realized what a lame excuse that was.  
  
Imrel noticed it too. "He is a traveler and clothes bother him not," he said lightly. With a smile, he slipped the hood of her cloak off. His smile vanished instantly. "Erin, don't lie to me again and tell me- who did this to you?"  
  
A/N: Yay, another cliffhanger! I just love doing that! And yay, I finally got a chance to get this online! 


	4. Don´t cry, Erin

Disclaimer: May Tolkien rest in peace and forgive me for the flagrant use of his stories for the creation of my own!  
  
A/N: Sorry for the delay, but I had this very serious lack of time due to the back-to-school business besides authors block. But this is my longest chapter yet, and things are looking much better now. :-)  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Erin's cheeks were wet and streaked by tears; she had many bruises and several long scratches, including a rather nasty one that was still bleeding. Except for the long, dark hair that as always fell messily over her face, it was hard to believe it was really her. The laughter in her voice was dead, as well as in her eyes. "Erin, don't lie to me again and tell me- who did this to you?" Imrel demanded. She merely shook her head and fled away.  
  
When he made to go after her, a strong hand held him back. "Don't go now," someone whispered to him. Imrel turned and saw the prince standing there, keeping him from going after her. "Let me go, Legolas." "Not yet. If you really care about her, then show a little respect for her feelings." They stared at each other, conversing by sharing their thoughts, as elves will do at times.  
  
Just then, a few of the female elves came over to haul Legolas back to the party. Laughing, they reminded him that this gala affair had been made in honor of his return. Imrel needed no more help than that. Looking back only once to make sure no one noticed him leaving after her, (something rather unnecessary) he slipped away.  
  
...Erin ran down the halls, without paying attention to where she was going. All she wanted was to get away from the merry gathering in the Great Hall, but most of all, to get away from the look of grief that mingled with pity in Imrel's eyes. She could bear many things, but pity was one thing she wouldn't accept from anyone, under any circumstances. True, she was a sad sight, all bruised and beat up. But that didn't mean she had to accept anyone's pity, she thought angrily.  
  
She was beginning to feel short of breath and looked back; seeing no one was following her, she stopped. She looked at her surroundings, and recognized a hall adjoining the one that led to her room, and decided she might as well go back and get her face cleared up.  
  
After pouring water into the basin by her bedstead, she took a small towel and dampened a corner of it. Gentle and careful as she was, she couldn't help but cry out in pain the moment she touched her face. The pain was so intense tears began to flow down her face once more, and she began to recall all that had happened that morning to bring her pain, bringing back also feelings of grief, loss and anger that intensified her crying.  
  
The feel of a soft, cool hand on her shoulder finally stopped her outburst of tears. She took a deep breath and turned her head. Imrel was standing there looking down at her, his face filled anew with grief and pity, but his eyes also showing a compassion for her she hadn't seen before in anyone else's.  
  
Gently, he took the towel from her hand. Erin winced fearfully when she saw his hand draw near, and he whispered softly, soothingly, "Don't worry, I won't hurt you". She gave him a small, apologetic smile, "I know. Or at least I should have known." She was surprised by the lightness of his touch, which was so gentle she felt no pain at all as he helped her clean her face, except for a light stinging feeling whenever he touched her scratches.  
  
He took a seat beside her, reached for her hand and gave it a little squeeze before he asked, "You won't cry anymore, will you?" She raised her head then to look at him, as it had been slightly bowed down in shame at the thought that she had needed to be helped by him. She wasn't a proud person- well, at least not that proud- but she felt very embarrassed nevertheless. She hated feeling so helpless and defeated.  
  
Finally, she gave him a soft smile. "No, I won't cry anymore." Imrel, relieved, noted she sounded more like herself again. Near gone were the gruff, low, deep tones of sadness. But she was still weak as water, as she had received many a hard blow that day, not only physically, but emotionally as well, he realized. He also noted how exhausted she was, but knew that she would be wary.  
  
The crazy urge to comfort her he had felt since the moment he set eyes on her finally overcame him, and he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. Usually, Erin would have shoved it off, since she wasn't a very affective person, and even as a child had disliked having someone so close to her, but somehow with him it felt right. She felt safe with him, safer than she could remember ever having felt before.  
  
They rocked on the bed together a few moments before she leaned her head against his chest and closed her eyes. She didn't really want to rest there, but it was a comfortable place to be after a long day, and she didn't want him to go just yet. He began to sing softly to her in an elven tongue, most probably Silvan or Sindarin, which he knew best. She couldn't understand a word he said, but it was soothing, like floating in a sea of warmth and comfort, and she finally fell asleep in his arms.  
  
Imrel looked down at her, and it finally hit him how his father could have fallen for a mortal. In spite of her bruises, she was strikingly beautiful, her large eyes framed by long dark lashes, her pale, oval shaped face framed by long, silky dark tresses. Like most elves, he used to consider humans inferior beings; brief, homely and weak. But for all that, she was more precious to him.  
  
Moving very gently as not to wake her up, Imrel laid Erin on the bed and tucked the blankets in around her. Softly, he kissed her brow and slipped away.  
  
A/N: So there you go, the long-waited-for Chapter 5! Now, hit the pretty purple button and make me feel happy after a really bad week, ok? ;-) [wink, wink] 


	5. Unexpected

Disclaimer: I do not own Mirkwood (or Middle-Earth). Unfortunately, that means Leggie too! Waaahh!!  
  
A/N: I'm sorry it took me so long to finish this chapter! If only I didn't keep changing my mind... The good news is, I've got another chapter almost ready- unfortunately, there's still two more to write before that one's up! Any ideas? Let me know.  
  
Shoutouts. As most of you should know, I prefer writing individual e-mail messages to each of you, but here's just a few exceptions to that rule:  
  
--Bree: Thank you so much for your continuous support! I'm glad you enjoy reading my fic. I certainly enjoy writing it when I get cool reviews!  
  
--Elentir gurl: Thanks so much for asking me to beta! I certainly enjoy it. To everybody else- go read her new fic (whenever she decides to put it up) or else!  
  
--myheartxyourknife: There ya go, I've updated! Now you (as well as certain other people) should do the same...  
  
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*Chapter 5*  
  
The loud thunk of something falling to the floor woke Erin from a deep sleep. Startled, she sat up in bed and looked around. Instead of the grey bumps of her own bedroom, she saw a high, dark, smooth ceiling; instead of an overlarge, heavy, worn patchwork quilt, she was wrapped in a soft, light blanket. Relief washed over her as she realized where she was. She wondered what time it was- indoors it was always hard for her to tell, as the torches were kept lit in the halls at all times.  
  
After a long, luxurious bath, Erin dressed in a long-sleeved ivory and brown colored dress with a close-fitting bodice that hid most of her remaining bruises. She was still very sore and moved about stiffly, but Imrel's care had helped ease her pain considerably. She studied herself in the mirror. All those scratches and bruises would take at least two weeks to start to fade, she decided, but at least she would look no worse afterwards than she had before. She blessed good genes: she healed fast and well, and the few scars she had were almost imperceptible.  
  
As Erin brushed her long, dark hair, she tried to think up a different way to wear it. It was beautiful, but it was so long because she refused to cut it that it was hard to do anything with it besides wearing it in a ponytail or braiding it, which she couldn't do very neatly. Therefore, it was usually loose and mostly hanging in her face.  
  
A soft knock on her door brought her back to reality. It was Imrel, coming by to see if she was awake yet. "Would you like me to help with your hair?" he asked from the doorway. Erin grinned. "Sure. Two heads are worse than one to brush. Come on in." They laughed together. He understood her meaning.  
  
***  
  
Nearly three hours later, with Erin's hair done up in as neat an elven braid as Imrel could manage with her moving around, that was held in place with an ivory strip (torn from her gown when he wasn't looking), they headed out into the forest all set to have a picnic. Well, actually it was a picnic only from Erin's point of view, because for Imrel it was just an outdoor meal (namely, a late breakfast). When he had told her that, she'd just rolled her eyes at the ceiling and muttered, "Had to be an elf," which earned her quite a few reproachful looks from several people nearby.  
  
They walked for at least three hours at a brisk pace before they finally got to the nearest eating area. It was basically just a clearing, with a handful of tree stumps for seats, but the lessening of trees and foliage allowed more light and a slight breeze that made it a very pleasant change from the rest of the dark forest and (Erin thought) from being in the palace. The light was a beautiful glowing dark green that made it seem surreal, like a place in a dream.  
  
Erin fell, more than sat upon the first tree stump she reached. Her clothes and shoes were light and comfortable, but not enough so for doing stuff like hiking in the forest, so she felt tired, and her feet were killing her. Imrel's swift pace had not helped much at all, but of course, since it hadn't been fast for him, he didn't notice. Meanwhile, he was gathering fallen branches to use as fuel for a fire, just in case. There were still several lairs of giant spiders left, and even though they rarely dared to go near clearings the elves still frequented, he knew from experience it was best to be careful.  
  
Erin started to set out the food he had brought and realized just how hungry she was. She hadn't eaten a thing since before the fight with her aunt, and only looking at the food made her stomach start growling. It wasn't very good to look at, but the aroma was so delicious she started to doubt whether she should wait for him.  
  
There was sweet-smelling grayish fruit, a large number of strange-looking mushrooms, several types of meat, soft rolls of whole-wheat bread, and small, dark cupcakes sprinkled with what seemed to be chopped nuts on top. Also, a large leather flask she had filled with wine when no one was watching over it.  
  
Imrel noticed her restlessness, so he hurriedly kindled a small fire and came to sit next to her on the forest floor. He looked so comfortable there, Erin finally gave in and slipped beside him shortly after they began to eat. At first she tried hard to eat slowly, but the food was so good, and she was so hungry she finally started wolfing it all down, until Imrel took her hands in his. "Easy," he said, "or you'll make yourself sick."  
  
Erin nodded, finished chewing her mouthful of food, and swallowed it, before explaining, "I haven't had a thing since the afternoon before the day I got here until right now. I'm hungry, and this stuff is delicious. It's just about the best food I've had in my life." Imrel's eyes widened slightly. "Little wonder you were eating like that. That was nearly three days ago you last ate." She blushed.  
  
They continued eating until all the food was gone. Erin sighed contentedly and began to clear things up. There wasn't much to do except gather all the leaf wrappings together in a pile to keep the fire going with. They were still not very dry, and the fire began to smoke, filling the air with a soft, sweet, lingering scent that reminded Erin of raspberry incense.  
  
The wine had been excellent, sweet and strong. As a matter of fact, it was Dorwinion wine, the Elvenking's best and favorite, as well as the most expensive. Erin had begun to feel drowsy after only three glasses and stopped, but Imrel had kept on drinking it as if it were water throughout the whole meal. Now, they were just sitting there, watching the fire burn to embers and talking about their favorite drinks and such.  
  
At his bidding, Erin served them each another glass of wine (nearly the last they had left). She leaned back against the tree trunk, enjoying the silence as they drank up. Suddenly, Imrel looked up at her as if he had only just noticed her presence and started to laugh softly. She stared at him, confused, and asked what was so funny. "You look so different with your hair like that- like an elven maid," was the smiling answer. His words were slurred, and she realized the wine was starting to go to his head.  
  
"Imrel, bite your tongue," she asked him. That was a trick she had learned when she had first started to drink, when she was about thirteen: when you're starting to lose the sensibility in your tongue, you're starting to get drunk. "I can't," he said finally, "I think I'm doing it, but I don't feel anything."  
  
Erin groaned. "You are drunk. Now how are we going to get back? I don't know the way." It was starting to get pretty dark. "Don't worry, I can lead us back," he assured her with a cute, sloppy smile all over his face. She shook her head, "No way, I don't want to get lost out here." "Trust me Erin, we can get back."  
  
He looked like he was about to run off any moment and leave her there. Knowing better than to try to change his mind, she just nodded and gave him a weak smile. "Alright," she said softly, trying to sound convincing, "But I'm a little bit tired right now, can I rest awhile before we go?" Another sloppy smile for her along with a slurred, "Of course, Erin." He looked so funny she almost laughed.  
  
Erin added the last leaves to the fire, silently chastising herself for having let him drink that much. Now they would have to spend the night outside in the forest, and all she had was a thin, largish cloak to keep her warm. 'If only the fire weren't almost out, and if only there were some more wine left... dratted elves, they don't feel cold, but I do...' she thought sleepily, not realizing the wine was starting to have an effect on her as well.  
  
Her eyes began to close of their own accord, and she slid down to the ground, where Imrel was already asleep, with his eyes open and blinking slowly in time to his breathing. She wrapped her cloak tightly around herself and snuggled up against him, trying to keep warm. Her movements woke him up again, and (much to her surprise), he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close.  
  
His feather-light fingertips ran gently down her face, coming to a stop when they reached her lips, tracing their outline. He whispered something unintelligible in her ear, and his face moved softly, slowly towards her own until his lips met hers in the most gentle, sweet kiss. A kiss that would haunt her for long, torturing her heart and teasing her lips, where the memory of his lingered...  
  
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A/N: Well, there ya go! Alright people, you know what to do to keep this author happy... so get to it! Lol. Just kidding. Well, maybe not. ;-) Ohh, and wait: I mean to change my fics name. Any suggestions? (Please, no grey- company elvish- nothing against it, but I´m trying to be as Tolkien-fact as possible.) 


	6. Aftermath

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns ME. I own the story.  
  
A/N: Read, enjoy, and if you feel I deserve it, review! And hey, don´t worry- I can take a "bad" review. I don´t really mind- better to know I can't be ignored than to know you don't even care! I'm really sorry it took me so long to finish such a short chapter! I was out of town and when I got back and could finally get my hands on the computer, I had this REALLY bad author's block. I dunno, it was just a hard chapter for me to write. Maybe because my own so-called love life is this big, crappy mess as well. Well, anyways, thank heaven, I'm back on track, and though I'm still a bit slow, at least I've started to write again. And, the good news is, I've nearly got Chapter 7 ready- maybe even Chapter 8. Now, back to the story.  
  
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*Chapter 6*  
  
The journey back seemed longer, farther. Neither of them felt very well- Imrel had a fairly bad hangover after getting drunk on what he now realized was Dorwinion wine, and Erin was beginning to feel sick after being out in the cold for so long- and the cold sheets of rain were no help at all. In spite of the heavy foliage that was in the way of the rainwater, the two of them got completely soaked.  
  
She felt strange with him after having kissed; guilty because she had enjoyed kissing him, deceived because Imrel, it transpired, had been so drunk at the moment he couldn't remember a thing, and most of all, hurt, because she had thought that he meant it.  
  
He tried to engage her in conversation a few times, but soon gave up when he received practically monosyllabic answers from her, and they had walked in complete silence afterwards. By the time they arrived to the well- outlined path to the palace, she was feeling more uncomfortable than ever, and he was beginning to look angry.  
  
He was, but not at her, as she thought. He was angry at himself, because he began to realize it was his presence that caused her discomfort, and assumed it was probably because of something that he had done while drunk. It made him feel like banging his head against a beech tree.  
  
Their goodbye, said before retiring to their rooms, was short and simple. Cold, almost. They both timidly looked at each other once, but luck had it so that they took it by turns and only saw the other determinedly looking anywhere but at them. It was something that hurt them both to the depths of their souls, a cold, cruel knife against already wounded hearts, although they strived (and unfortunately succeeded) at not letting their feelings show.  
  
***  
  
Erin stripped off her wet clothes to take another long, hot bath before going to sleep. She felt very cold, a sure sign that if she wasn't careful she might get sick. It had taken everything she could do not to run and get into bed as she was; it looked that soft, comfortable and inviting after a night outdoors and uncovered.  
  
She unbraided her hair carefully so she wouldn't get tangles and slipped into the warm water. Try as she might, she couldn't stop thinking about Imrel, reliving every tiny detail of what had happened: the way he had touched her face, her lips... the way he wrapped his arms about her, ever so gently, almost as if he were afraid to hurt her... the way his lips brushed hers, so agonizingly gentle... and the words he had whispered to her, words she could have sworn had meant "I love you"...  
  
Tears began to run down her cheeks, mingling with the water, but she didn't realize it. Why did this have to happen? Now she didn't know what to think, and a million questions ran through her head... Had the wine unleashed his feelings for her or his lust? Had he really forgotten about it- or was he now as confused as she was, wondering how this would affect their friendship? Or even worse- what if he had decided she was very loose and now wanted...  
  
She would have given herself to him last night without a thought, but now she shook her head determinedly. He would have to change his mind about that, and she would make sure of it. Her hurt feelings turned to cool anger and a dangerous, angelical smile appeared on her face as she devised her plan. Vengeance would be sweet- and it would be hers to enjoy...  
  
***  
  
Imrel felt cold and dizzy. He knew there was nothing he could do that would help him feel better but lie down and try to rest, and yet, he could only pace about the room restlessly, wringing his hands.  
  
He desperately tried to remember what had happened that night, but, miserably, could recall nothing. He had to know what had happened, because he could not bear the thought of losing her friendship. She was his sole companion in his loneliness, the only one who cared to be with him anymore. Even Legolas had been distant with him, having come on official business- it was urgent, he had said.  
  
He couldn't afford to lose her. Not now.  
  
Without her- he was truly alone.  
  
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A/N: If I keep it up like this, I think I might have to change the genre to drama- and hell, I love it! Thanks for reading- even if you're just lurking and don't review. I still love y'all. =3 


	7. Confused

Disclaimer: Middle-Earth, it's history, languages and characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. Erin and Imrel belong to me. So does this storyline. Nothing more, nothing less.  
  
A/N: I know, I know. I take forever in finishing a single chapter, and this is one of my shortest. Nonetheless, I think you'll like it. Read, review, and enjoy!  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Erin smiled to herself, pleased at her success. Once again, she had managed to get in and out of the cellars without being seen and leave with a large flask full of booze. These cellars were usually well guarded, as they were full of (don't tell me you hadn't known, or guessed!) barrels, for the elves were very fond of drinking, though they rarely brew any themselves.  
  
She drank it greedily, enjoying the tingling warmth that spread out from her stomach to the very tips of her fingers. She waltzed about her room, bumping into the furniture every now and then, but she didn't care. She was feeling reckless. Her face flushed, and she smiled gleefully, having begun to feel dizzy.  
  
The problem was, whatever she had taken was a lot stronger than she'd originally thought and she had taken too much in a very short time. She stumbled and fell over, nearly hitting herself on the table corner. Luckily for her, Imrel had come into the room just then, and he managed to catch her just before her pretty little head made contact.  
  
She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and dropped to her knees, pulling him down along with her into a sort of bow. Imrel tried in vain to pull her to her feet. She laughed hysterically, tears coming to her eyes, and began to babble, saying things like, "My knight in shining armor! What would I do without you?" He instantly noted the near-empty cut-glass goblet on the table, her slurred words, and the sharp scent of alcohol on her breath.  
  
"Erin, why did you do this?" he asked her angrily. She looked into his eyes and her face melted into a soft, sweet smile, but her eyes were cold as ice. "Revenge," she whispered softly, but he was too intent on scolding her for her irresponsibility to hear. Her hands, which were still around his neck, began to bring his head down to hers. If he couldn't remember, she'd make him...  
  
Suddenly, everything began to spin around madly, endlessly, unstoppably, and the sound of wind filled her ears. Her smile turned to a grimace of pain and terror, and she cried out softly, trying to scream. All strength left her: her hands lost their hold on his neck, and her eyes fluttered closed as she fell into a dead faint...  
  
When Erin opened her eyes again, she could only think about the strange dream she'd had... She wasn't even conscious of having fainted- all she could remember was drinking and beginning to feel peculiarly warm, but not at all like when she drank. Her head, usually very clear after having slept the drink off, felt queer and fuzzy, and her body felt cold and stiff. Her eyesight was blurred, but after blinking a few times, it improved slightly.  
  
She looked around and realized she was no longer in her room, but in a small, round alcove, dimly lit by a small torch on the right. On the left, there were a few small windows just beneath the low ceiling, and she saw it was very dark outside. She wondered if she was still in Mirkwood. Or had she been transported to a different place? And most important, why, or rather, how could she have remained so long in Mirkwood to begin with?  
  
Her head, less fuzzy now, was beginning to hurt horribly, very much like the time she had drugged herself with prescription pills and alcohol. She had loved the way she felt while their combined effect lasted, but the hangover had been so bad she had never done it again. A few months after, a girl she had used to know died from an overdose of the same pills.  
  
The small torch would not last much longer; it was already beginning to flicker. She tried to get up, but she couldn't even lift her head from the floor without great pain and effort. As the torch turned out, she saw a strange, menacing shadow enter the room through a doorway opposite her she hadn't noticed before. She began to panic when it entered the room.  
  
It had basically a human-like shape to begin with, but it's head was spectacularly deformed- overly large to begin with, with strange, pointy ears, a snout and no hair- except for it's ears. The air stirred when it moved, and it stank horribly- as if it were covered in the accumulated filth, blood and death of centuries and not in black and white armor and chain mail.  
  
Her stomach became queasy at the stench of it, and she began to retch, but her belly was empty so there was nothing to vomit and she suffered dry heaves and no more. The strange, disgusting creature came closer to her and pulled out a curved sword- a scimitar. Suddenly, it dawned on her what this creature was and what it meant to do to her... but it was too late to save herself anymore...  
  
Imrel paced around outside the room, trying to decide what to do. He was becoming desperate. He had to help her, but how? He knew he had little time. The only problem was, she wasn't supposed to be here in the first place. How could he help her without outside help, he, of all people? If she was found out, there was no telling what could happen to her. On the other hand, if no one helped her, she would die nevertheless... What in Arda was he to do?  
  
A/N: Once again, thank you very much to everyone who left a review! I appreciate any comments and/or suggestions you might have. Also, it would be nice if you told me exactly what it is you like about this (or any other) chapter, so I can pay more attention to it. To my beloved readers and lurkers, a thousand thanks! 


	8. Mystic

Disclaimer: Middle-Earth, it's languages, people and history belong to the much beloved and gifted writer John Ronal Reuel Tolkien. Also, a few descriptive lines here and there throughout the story. Erin, Imrel and the plot, belong to me.

A/N: Now this was a hard chapter to write! I think it's my longest one yet, though. I still haven't made my mind up about what is to go next, but I promise I'll work on it. Meanwhile, please read and review. All comments and suggestions are highly appreciated. Thank you.

Chapter 8

It didn't take Imrel long to make his mind up. He told himself there was no other choice; there was no other way. He couldn't risk her- she was his friend, in spite of everything- how could he betray her? No, he decided, it would have to be that way… With luck, he had thought, everything would turn out the better…

It hadn't.

He wrapped his arms around her limp form protectively, though he no longer knew what from. He held her as close as he could, and she was cold to his touch, much too cold. He pressed his face to hers and it felt surprisingly warm and wet from tears. Not hers, he saw, but his. He realized he was crying. He felt afraid, afraid for her as if for himself…

No, he didn't. He felt much more afraid than just that. He felt afraid, because in his heart of hearts, he knew he loved her. In the short space of time he had known her, Erin had found for herself a place in his heart. He loved her too much, and it hurt.

He felt his heart torn in two, because he loved her and now she was dying.

And she was dying because of him.

Softly, through his thickly flowing tears, he began to pray… "I've never asked a thing… but just this once… please… oh, please, keep her alive…"

Erin stood alone in a medium-sized cavern. It was much darker than any she had yet seen, not what you would call pitch-black, but really pitch black, and pleasantly cool. A soft rumor of falling water was all around her, though the still atmosphere itself was not damp. Surprisingly, she felt anything but afraid. Rather, she felt curious and excited to be here. She felt strangely at home… as if she were expected and welcomed.

She was dressed in soft, ankle-length flowing robes and barefoot. She began to walk confidently, as if she knew how to step just where the cavern floor would be smooth and perfect, as if she knew where to go… She felt impatient, there was something there, calling her, and she could not resist. She had to see, she had to know what it was… She walked on, sure of herself, towards it.

A soft breeze wrapped around her, and the breeze brought with it the sound of muttered words, and what she heard froze her blood… It was a prayer to the Valar… begging for her life. She came to a complete stop when she heard this, confused and bewildered. How could this be? What was this? This couldn't be happening… could it?

Then a new, feminine voice, thin and sweet as well as firm and authoritative began to speak through the wind, encouraging her to go on, "_Don't be afraid, child. Come along, my dear. You shall understand. Allow yourself to know, to feel… Don't be afraid._" Erin would afterwards try to describe that voice, failing at every attempt. It was ageless; young it seemed, yet ancient as the world… beautifully smooth and innocent, yet haunting with hidden power…

She stepped forward, much more nervously now, but determined as well. What the voice said was true, she thought; she had to learn, to understand, to know, to feel… she had a right to be aware of what was going on. This was her life… or wasn't it?

Carefully, Erin walked forward, until she came to a tiny pool bordered with small stones. It was barely more than a puddle, she thought. This she could see because there was the slightest amount of light reflected in the water, though she could not find its source.

The breeze, which had somehow shown her the way, stilled, and the voice spoke again. "_Come close, my child, and look into the water. You shall see the truth that you seek._"

Gently, she knelt by the waterside, and as she looked into it, the water began to whirl around, counterclockwise. Once again, the wind began to wrap around her, but in the opposite direction. Softly outlined figures began to form themselves in the water, and though everything was absolutely silent, through the wind she understood soft words speaking to her; and what she saw and heard brought tears to her eyes.

She finally understood everything that had happened since the day she first met Imrel. Everything that had happened had been because she, Erin, had wanted it to happen. From the moment he first came to her, she had not let him go. She had never considered the possibility that she might not be meant to behold Middle-Earth. Instead, she had insisted upon it as a fact. It had become an obsession for her. She had seen only what she had wanted to see.

King Thranduil, for instance, wouldn't consider it an honor to house a mortal like her. That's why Imrel had chosen to risk helping her himself; she must not be found out by anyone. Her meeting with Thranduil had simply been what she would have liked to happen. If she was to meet anyone, it had to be through Imrel, her "contact" in Middle-Earth. The friends she had made, for instance, she had literally made herself. It was all part of what she had wished for.

Imrel, of course, was not half-human. She had simply chosen to ignore the fact that, in the whole history of Middle-Earth there had only been three unions of elves and humans, because she wanted him to be different, like her. Yes, he did choose to stand out from the crowd, and he stubbornly defied the customs of the other elves, but they also eagerly accepted him.

Erin, however, was one thing they would most certainly not accept amongst them. And still, he wanted her close. He wanted to be with her, because, as he had once said, she was his only friend. No one else took him seriously. Not one of the elves in the palace, not one of those who lived beneath the trees… none of them considered him of importance

Her whole time in Middle-Earth had been a complicated charade, a lie, a deception, and an illusion… except for the time she had spent with him. She had been dreaming all this time, and she still was. She couldn't understand how or why, but that was the way things were.

Their kiss… it had simply been something they both wished for at the moment; they just hadn't known it before. Erin sighed wistfully. She realized she missed him, missed him so much, and regretted having acted so foolishly with him. If she could only apologize to him… if she could just explain everything… If only things could be as simple as that… Slow, silent tears began to run down her cheeks, though she didn't notice it.

She knew she cherished each and every moment, no matter how insignificant it might seem. The only thing she regretted was her foolish attitude and recent behavior, especially towards him, he who only wanted to be nice to her, to be really a friend. She owed him so much, and in return, she had acted like a fool. She felt like an orc. Worse than an orc, she thought. Only the lowliest creature would act so thoughtlessly…

"_No, child. Don't judge yourself so harshly before time_," came the voice once more. "_Do not charge yourself with such hard thoughts for you to bear. Speak to him and you shall be able to make a decision. Only then shall you know what to do._"

"What do you mean, make a decision? I don't understand… Please! What do I have to decide? What-" Erin wiped at her tears frantically.

"_Speak to him. You shall know when the time comes…_" came the soft, gently fading whispered answer.

"_Only then you shall know._"

A/N: Thank you _so_ much for all your wonderful reviews- it means a lot to me. : )

[Happy, crazy author hands everyone who reviewed a bottle of Dorwinion wine and passes a platter of cheese, fruit and biscuits around to all her lovely readers.]

Now, for the bad news: people, I'm going on vacation!! Which means I might not be able to update for a while. : ( Sorry, people, but I'm just _dying _to get out of here, and my uncle, bless him, offered to pay for my plane tickets or XV birthday party, and the choice was obvious.

[Hugs readers.] = 3


	9. Cold Pain

Disclaimer: Middle-Earth was created by the genius J.R.R. Tolkien, not by me. And the little song Imrel sings, it's from the LotR soundtrack. Only the poem and storyline are mine.

A/N: First of all, I apologize for the long wait in updating. As you already know, I was on vacation, but during that time my brother, Ricky, passed away and I've sincerely found it very difficult to write about anything else, having been really close to him, but here's the new chapter I'd promised you guys, anyway.

Chapter 9

...As the whispering voice faded, the wind began and the water in the pool began to whirl in the opposite directions again. The figures in it blurred slowly, reluctantly into a cold, gray mass, and as Erin stared into it, she felt everything around her began to shift as well... and as everything slurred to nothing, she began to drift upwards...

Erin felt herself slowly gaining consciousness as after a very long, deep sleep, and for a moment she thought she must be asleep, because everything felt like a nightmare. Her eyes half-opened, but she closed them when she found how painful the light was to them. She found it difficult to move, and the horrible, chilling cold made things even worse. Her head hurt like hell, too, as if there were a tiny little Orc in there slashing at her brain.

'_No, let me go to sleep. It's cold, and I hurt so bad... you're cold, and it's making me hurt all over,' _Erin protested in her thoughts as a gentle hand shook her by the shoulders. _'Leave me alone... I'm so tired... don't want to wake up again, ever... no pain there... no grief... I can't stand the pain anymore. Just leave me alone!!'_ She moaned silently, wishing it would go away.

A gentle and rich, young-old voice reached her ears- Imrel's voice. 'Come on, Erin, don't fall asleep now...' he pleaded. 'Erin, listen to me,' he said, more insistently as her eyes near fluttered open once more, 'you have to wake up NOW.'

His voice was stern enough to convince her-, which is saying a lot. She opened her eyes, confused for a moment, and then she realized where she was- in a bathtub! Little wonder her body felt so heavy. 'Imrel, you son of an Orc!' she shouted. _Ouch_. Now _that _was a bad idea, she realized. Not only the light hurt and her throat felt painfully raspy, but he was looking as fierce as a dragon in a pinch.

'Explain yourself,' he said severely. He was not at all pleased with her actions. 'Why don't _you _explain yourself?' she countered, and added pointedly, 'As far as I remember, I didn't put myself in a cold bath!" Imrel frowned at her. 'What do you remember?'

Mmmm... omitting all the weird dreams that might actually have been real? 'I snuck around and got some wine or something out of one of the smaller barrels down in the cellar, came back here and drank a goblet full of it... Then, when I started to feel dizzy, and you came in... I don't know, I think I might have fallen down or something... and after that I don't remember anything,' she answered hesitantly. 'I just know I woke up here, in a cold bath,' she added, sarcastically, for his benefit.

His frown deepened. 'No wine is strong enough to do that so quickly, not even Dorwinion, and you've already proved you are stronger than that, anyway. You must've drunk something else... which explains why it took me so long to wake you after you blacked out. Don't lie to me Erin- this could be very serious- what was it?' She shrugged nonchalantly.

'You don't know what you drank?' 'No,' was Erin's simple answer. 'Didn't you read the inscription carved onto the barrel? You could've poisoned yourself, did you know that?' She shrugged again. As if she even cared anymore. 'I'm not good at reading Elvish writing. All I really know is the Angerthas Daeron.'

'I need you to think, Erin, and try to remember everything as detailed as you can. Try to remember where the barrel was exactly and what it looked like. If you left anything of the liquid, even if only a few drops, it would help me know what it was you drank and what to do to counter it. Several of the smaller barrels are reputed to be dangerous for weaker mortals, and I have little doubt what you drank came from one of those.'

_'Weaker mortals, huh? So I'm no longer like an Elven maiden?'_ Erin muttered sarcastically to herself as she dried herself off briskly with the rough towel, while Imrel tried to find the flask she'd used to smuggle the drink out. She felt like hell, and all she wanted was to climb into bed and sleep, but it was far too obvious Imrel wouldn't permit even the thought of doing that- it was 'too risky', he'd said. (Thus, he'd deliberately woken her with all the delicacy of a brick crashing through a window by dumping her into ice-cold water.)

Most of her felt guilty for acting so irritably, but she was still indignated enough by the cold bath, and there was still enough liquid flowing through her as to not give it any mind just yet, even if he _had_ meant only her well-being. _'Yeah, and maybe just a minor case of pneumonia, by the way,'_ she thought sulkily to herself, feeling her throat closing up and her forehead becoming warmer.

She dressed herself as quickly as she could with trembling hands, shivering violently. Damn it- she just _had_ to get sick now... Blast those lucky elves with their foolproof immunity to any sickness... little wonder they were the only ones able to live for long in the likes of Mirkwood, anyway. Erin hadn't understood it completely yet, but Mirkwood emphasized every detail of her, both strength and weakness. Here, she was at her utmost extremes, and therefore, she was all the more vulnerable to _everything_, illness included.

She walked carefully, feeling weak and uncomfortably dizzy, into the room, where Imrel was sitting at the small table observing the marks the wine had left within the cut-glass flask. 'I think I know what it was, Erin, and let me tell you it's a miracle you're awake now,' said Imrel as she walked towards him, without even turning to look at her, 'most mortals would've slept during days, and eventually would have died. That's a rather powerful draught- it has water from the Forest River in it- though not much.'

'Hmmm... that's interesting,' she answered distractedly as he continued listing the ingredients it, while thinking, _'Yeah right... as if I even cared. All I want is to forget... Forget everything I've done and everything that's happened to me... and I'll always keep trying, no matter what...and if I die in the trying, then so be it. What good is it for me to be alive anyway? The one reason I haven't committed suicide yet is I'm still trying to find a real reason not to do it...'_

'I know what plant to use to counter it... I'll be right back with it... but don't fall asleep,' he warned her. 'It's-' 'too risky, yes, I know,' she finished for him, and added, 'don't worry; I'll just sit here and write, or something. I've just had a lot of weird dreams... I'd like to write for a while. They help me find the right words, sometimes.' He nodded his approval and left.

It was true. She was a fairly good writer, and most of her inspiration came from dreams. She usually wrote about her feelings, but the metaphors were what she dreamed. Taking the dark quill, watery ink and creamy parchment that had laid unused in a drawer in Imrel's room, she began to write down whatever thoughts came into her mind, not even pausing to think.

Ironically, 'I'll be right back' seemed to mean 'in two hours' in Imrel-language, but to her the time seemed short, being so distracted in her writing she didn't even notice when he came back in carrying a few dark leaves, even though he'd knocked quite loudly on the door before walking in on her. She'd already filled a sheet of parchment, and was now working on a new poem and a new sheet.

The parchment caught his eye as he drew near. "Could you tell me what is written here? I can't understand what it says very well, being poorly skilled in reading these runes. Unless you'd rather I didn't know, that is," he requested shyly. _Damn_, sometimes he was so polite it really got to her how downright mean she had been in return. "Why should I mind? I might've been mean to you more than once, but you're my friend."

She gently took the parchment from his hand, and would've begun to read aloud, if he hadn't taken her elbow and reminded her why he had gone out into the forest while the rain was yet pouring, (which is also why he took so long- he'd paused first at his own room to change his clothes) and began to prepare the counter-poison for her.

'I know they taste horrible, but otherwise if you fall asleep you might not awake again," he said sympathetically a few minutes later, as she tried not to vomit the ground Fenugreek leaves and Dorwinion wine (mixed with a few other things she'd decided it was best not ask him to identify) in the leather cup he'd given her.

Somehow, she managed to keep it all down, and decided to distract herself from the hideous aftertaste by fulfilling his previous request to read her poem. It was a very short one, since he'd interrupted her, she warned him.

_I yearn the lost days of my innocence_

_In a world of illusions not yet broken._

_I look in the mirror of my broken features_

_And I can hear, within the silence, the weeping of wood-fairies._

_I feel the emptiness consume me, _

_The fullness of my lie._

_I let the tears wash over my face, _

_Wishing they could cleanse me of my sin._

_But I have gone so far and so deep _

_I hold no hope of being saved. _

_And in my hopeless desperation_

_I resolve to walk over the ledge._

_I see my dreams fly past me, broken to pieces, _

_And a light that shines brightly before me. _

_But when I try to light the path, _

_I die within and the light vanishes._

_I now walk blindly ´till I do find _

_An ethereal fire that consumes me completely. _

_And only when I have rid myself of my body _

_Can I embrace my liberty once more._

She repeated the last two lines in a soft whisper the deadly silence of the room magnified a thousand fold. Imrel stared at Erin, shocked by the strength of her words, while she struggled to keep the hot tears that had come to her eyes beneath her lids. She hadn't meant to let him know, but the words had caused an unexplainable flurry of emotions to come to surface, the feelings she always kept well hidden and under control, except when she was in Middle-Earth. Here, she couldn't hide what she really was.

'You hold much in your heart for someone so young,' he said finally, and wished he could find a way to ease her misery, and his heart filled anew with the feelings of grief and pity for her his face betrayed. 'Why must you think of such things and keep them within yourself? Why must you insist upon doing yourself harm?'

'I don't want to,' she said in a voice barely above a whisper, knowing that if she spoke any louder her voice, unlike her face, would betray her emotions. Her hands trembled, and she set the parchment on the table. Taking a deep breath, she went on, 'But what choice do I have? I have no one beside me, no one to share and ease my troubles the way I once had. All whom I once loved and trusted are dead. Dead, Imrel, and though I've seen other's dead loved ones, I've never once seen mine again, not even in the furthest corner of my dreams.'

He wrapped her gently in his arms. 'Fifteen times have the leaves fallen in Mirkwood since your birth, Erin, and even to me, that seems but a short while. I have been as alone as you have, for many long years... You have no idea what that has been.' She looked in his eyes and saw they shone with unshed tears. Her own worries seemed suddenly small and insignificant by comparison and she felt horribly ashamed. 'Imrel, I'm so sorry...' her voice cracked, and she bit her trembling lip to keep herself from crying again.

'Don't cry. It's all right, believe me... _you'll _be all right,' he tried to console her. His own pain had lain away, forgotten, and yet, instead of wishing she hadn't brought the memories back, his one thought was to relieve hers in any way he could, because that is what a real friend is there for.

Holding her as close as he could, he began to sing softly, noting, but giving little mind to, the fact her face was flushed and curiously warmer than usual.

_Lay down_

_Your sweet and weary head_

_The night is falling_

_You have come to journey's end_

_Sleep now_

_And dream of the ones who came before_

_They are calling_

_From across the distant shore_

_Why do you weep? _

_What are these tears upon your face? _

_Soon you will see_

_All of your fears will pass away_

_Safe in my arms_

_You're only sleeping_

_What can you see_

_On the horizon? _

_Why do the white gulls call? _

_Across the sea_

_A pale moon rises_

_The ships have come to carry you home_

_And all will turn_

_To silver glass_

_A light on the water_

_All Souls pass_

_Hope fades_

_Into the world of night_

_Through shadows falling_

_Out of memory and time_

_Don't say_

_We have come now to the end_

_White shores are calling_

_You and I will meet again_

_And you'll be here in my arms_

_Just sleeping_

_And all will turn_

_To silver glass_

_A light on the water_

_Grey ships pass_

_Into the West._

And, as he sung, she laid her head on his firm chest and let her eyes close, welcoming sleep, feeling too completely worn out, both physically and emotionally to care what risks it might bring. Imrel carefully carried her sleeping form to the bed and once again gently tucked her in, settling himself beside her to watch over her as she slept, wondering just how it was he came to care so much for this little mortal girl, and not caring for the answer...

A/N: This chapter I specially dedicate to Ricky's memory, being he who introduced me to Tolkien's work.

I love you, bro.


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